


no one can be everything

by ohmcgee



Category: Original Work
Genre: 2nd person POV, Angst, F/F, sex with crazy girls is the best sex, until its not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you can't make homes out of human beings<br/>someone should have already told you that<br/>                                                 --Warsan Shire</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one can be everything

i.

  


_Her mouth, wet and plush and pressed against you, hands reaching out and touching you everywhere, fingers fumbling into your mouth; you suck them in, moan around them., your hands buried in her hair, twisting and pulling. Her tongue, tasting you, tracing you, relentless, bringing you off until you clutch the sheets and burst like a ripe, juicy fruit in her mouth._

  


You wake, sheen of sweat covering your belly, sheets twisted around your thighs, wet between them. You touch yourself, come again.

  
  
  


ii.

  


You hate thinking of her like this. It’s over, you shouldn’t. You don’t _want_ \- but you can’t help the thoughts that invade your dreams. You can’t help she was so _passionate_ in her ways that you can’t force the memories out of your mind. She left imprints all over your body, curses more like, everywhere her hands touched, every place she put her mouth, burned into your skin, your mind.  

  


A seductress. A succubus. She seduced you into her web of insanity and dysfunction and made your bed there, tied you to it and -- you can’t even lie to yourself. No one made you stay, no one forced you into her bed again and again. You were simply unable to say no.  She was, of course, very persuasive. 

  
  


iii.

  


_Her laugh, her smile, dark hair falling down in front of her eyes. Her eyes, nothing spectacular about them at all, only brown -- brown like mud or coffee with a bit of milk. The necklace she wore around her pale neck. The red lipstick she was never seen without. These images permanently weaved into your memories, haunting you._

  


You pour yourself a shot of whatever’s in the cabinet. You remember the last time you tasted this particular whiskey. It was the night she left; the night you made her leave.  It wasn’t working. She was too much. You couldn’t handle the intensity anymore, couldn’t -- you just couldn’t be everything she needed. _No one can be everything!_

  


There were tears, more than you thought possible, and screaming, loud enough for the neighbors to worry and phone the landlord. Broken glasses and broken pieces of a relationship you were never -- had never even admitted to yourself.  You’d never wanted to admit it was real. 

  


She was so real it scared you.  

  


You said leave. You said never come back. _I never want to see you again_ , and the realness and pain in her eyes was so bright you had wished you were blind. The door slammed and you felt like you could breathe again.

  


You can’t breathe now, all of it flooding your mind at once, vivid, raw. Real. She’s gone and you forced her to leave and the way she looked at you.  She was in pieces. You slashed her open with your words like knives; you broke her.

  


You.

  
  


iv.

  


That was your crime. This is your punishment.  To dream of her every night. To feel the ghost of those hands on you day in and day out, to remember her soft, beautiful mouth move against yours, whispering promises of love, devotion, things you never wanted to hear, but let her say anyway. To dream of the way she moved under you, the way her hair fanned out against your pillowcase, the soft noises she made, the way she gripped and grabbed and screamed your name with your fingers inside her.

  


You dream of her every night without relent, and every morning you wake with the memories soft and fuzzy, right on edge of your mind. Sometimes you gasp awake, sometimes you reach across the bed and your stomach tightens upon realizing she isn’t there. Sometimes you look at the smashed picture frame still hanging on the wall in the sitting room and remember why she’s not.

  


She was crazy and beautiful and you will never forget her. That, you finally understand, is your real punishment.

  


You haven’t been with anyone since.

  
  



End file.
